


Sunshine Riptide

by houndsace



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Prototype, Fate/Zero
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, honestly im just here to feed myself and my friend, im not sorry for putting dumbass tags either fight me, there's nothing in here for protocu and thats my baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 12:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houndsace/pseuds/houndsace
Summary: Cu Chulainn thought that he'd skip town after high school - he, his twin and their older brothers would be long gone.Except that wasn't how fate had planned it for him, and now he's staring at the face of someone he hasn't seen in three years.





	Sunshine Riptide

**Author's Note:**

> lol like the tags say im just here to provide content glsdfgsldf  
> protocu doesn't get enough love  
> quick run down is that cu is protocu  
> Sétanta is lance cu  
> aster is caster  
> and alter is cu alter bc im....lazy  
> as usual, no beta we die like men and i suck at summaries!

He didn't want to go out on such a night but there were days that it wasn’t able to be helped - rain was already seeping into his shoes, and he could feel the way the cold bit at his toes, and he was doing his best to keep the brown little package in his jacket safe.

It was unpleasant, feeling the bare edges of the gel that had been keeping his hair in place at the end of his neck, and he’s glad for the convenience store that still seems to be open. He beelines for the bathroom, not even thinking to ask for the key but it doesn’t matter much - the blue haired man he’d barely caught a glimpse of at the counter seemed to know well enough, bringing it right to him instead, that soft grin on his face telltale that he knows exactly what Diarmuid was dealing with.

Diarmuid flashes a small smile, before ducking into the bathroom. He takes his time in there (no one else had been seen on his walk nor in the store), making sure to get the rest of the gel out of his hair and wipe it off his neck. There wasn’t much he could do about the rest, he was soaked to the bone and he doubted he’d be able to get any of the water out of his clothes but maybe it was for the best. At least now he couldn’t get another set of clothes wet, and maybe he’d catch a break when he’d come out and the rain would have slowed down or stopped.

(He has no such luck, though, and he can hear the way that the rain patters against the thin roof of the store, huffing a bit as he moves to recollect his things and head out.) 

As he’s handing the bathroom key back to the other man, though, their eyes catch for a moment, and he blinks, “You… Look familiar?”

The blue haired man only offers him a smile, non-committal, almost sad in a way that Diarmuid can’t actually place, and his tone in is no different, “I’ve got three older brothers. ‘M sure you’ve seen ‘im around. One of ‘ems huge, big tattoos and all? Still got the same face and eyes.” 

“Ah…” There’s a nod that he gives, doesn’t elaborate further, but before he’s out the door, he’s stopped again.

“Hey, hold on now!” The accent is thicker the louder he talks and Diarmuid recognizes him yet again, squinting a fair bit before he’s handed a clear plastic umbrella, “Get home safe, aye?” 

There’s something in the back of his head that tells him he knows this man, something that edges at his mind, nodding as he leaves the store and uses the umbrella to get himself the rest of the way home, at least a little dryer than he had been before. 

Hot water does wonders, and as he’s padding around his studio apartment barefoot, he thinks back on the blue haired man he’d met today - he had said he’d had brothers, but Diarmuid knew well enough that they wasn’t where he’d known the man. There had to be something else, and that’s how he ends up digging through his old yearbooks, old class directories and assignments that he hasn’t touched since he graduated high school and moved into college.

But that’s where this answer was - written in dark blue ink, right under a photo of himself and two men that looked just almost the same if it weren’t for the style of their hair, Remember the Hounds! and it clicks in his head.

Cú Chulainn, the man that had caused him some grief in high school, but had been fierce in every sport they’d play together - soccer, baseball, swimming - and Diarmuid almost had to sit and think how he’d forgotten the man. 

He almost dashes outside - almost, but the crack of thunder and the promise of a worse storm keeps him inside. 

His focus returns to the package that almost gotten soiled by the rain, tearing it open carefully and tossing the wet paper in the waste bin before he opens it fully. A smile on his face as he sees the image, a letter to himself, something he’d done back in high school as an assignment and has managed to make its way back to him - but more prominent, was the prom picture that sat at the bottom of the box, the edges of it wet with the rain that he’d tried desperately to protect it from, and the smile on his face doesn’t leave as he moves to put it in a much safer place than a wet box.

\----

“Oiii, Seta.” There’s a call from the door as he enters, and Cú knows well enough that he has to be careful of waking Aster or Alter, the older set of twins that inhabit the same apartment. It’s bare, almost, the way it only carries bare hints of its owners, with the scent of cigarettes and booze, and yet, not a single bottle in sight for the night. Cú wonders if they’d finished drinking for the night, or if they’d manage to run out. Either way, he didn’t mind - it was quiet, despite the pattering of rain still on the tin that covered over the windows in some makeshift awning. His eyes travel against the kitchen counters, snatching up a couple of things to make an easy sandwich before heading out to his own room.

There’s a huff to his walk as he tries to find his older twin, a desperation he hasn’t felt in a long time as he tries to get the last of the rain water off of him as he walks in, “You’ll never guess who appeared tonight.”

The older twin only raises a brow, combing a hair through the rat tail he had lazily as he watches the younger plunk down into the room, sitting lazily at the window there smoking a cigarette. Their bedroom was awfully barebones - but sharing a room came with some losses, he guesses, save the few skulls and things they’d collected through the years. Cú doesn’t mind it, running a hand through his thick, wet hair trying to get the tangles out as he strips himself of the wet shirt, “Diarmuid.”

“No feckin’ way?” Sétanta's voice is full of disbelief, but Cú nods, watching the other with a small smile, “The hell’s he been up to?” 

“College and all, I think.” He doesn’t say much else, not knowing or not caring, though either way it’s unclear.

“Think he’ll show up again?”

“If fate feels so kind.”

\----

“You.” The voice is insistent and Cú picks his eyes up to watch the man storm back into the store. The summer nights were back with a vague heat and no rain, and there’s something about the way he storms in that has Cú feeling almost nostalgic.

“Me?”

“Yes, you, don’t.. Don’t play stupid!” Diarmuid huffs a bit, “You.. You and your brother, we went to highschool together.”

“Aye, we did.”

“And you didn’t think to say something? We didn’t just go to highschool together, we… We were together.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far… I mean, we were.. You know, on the way there but.. I.. But… Aha.. There was no need t’bring you back this way. You were on your way t’college and I thought I’d be long gone. We even said, right? Not t’forget, but that we’d look back with fondness.”

“Cú… You know what, here.” It’s a burst of courage that has him writing down his number and handing it over, “Coffee. Tomorrow.”

There’s a blink from the man as red colors his face, and Cú only gives him a nod, taking the paper and tucking it into the back of his jeans.

\----

He does show up the next day - he sees Diarmuid tucked into the corner of the coffee shop, reading glasses on his nose and tapping along at a laptop he’d brought and Cú remembers last night, with a flush on his face again. He and Diarmuid had spent all night exchanging texts through his graveyard shift and more, until he finally knocked out for a few hours before heading here. He can see the lack of sleep on Diarmuid’s face clearly and yet, somehow, that pales in comparison to the rest of him.

Still, Cú finds himself padding over, boots thumping against the hardwood of the coffee shop as he takes his seat across from Diarmuid, who flashes him a smile that definitely has him blinking. He’s never felt shy before - in fact, he’s almost positive this is the bare edges of a crush that had happened those few years ago in high school that have brought this up and he has to clear his throat. But Diarmuid slips into conversation easily for him - he doesn’t have to think about it, and they bounce off each other so easily, talking about everything and nothing and Cú even helping Diarmuid on his homework.

It’s time that flies by, that he doesn’t even notice and the next thing he knows, he’s making plans for more, for another day, one that he doesn’t have to worry about work and he can focus on this.

He knows his brothers will tease him, but the grin that doesn’t leave his face is enough for him to know that, maybe, just maybe, reconnecting with someone from the past wasn’t a bad thing.

He can’t think of a single reason why Diarmuid would care to come back this way - but he does. He does and keeps coming back, even on days that he ends up late himself, and Cú, always with a smile, tells him never to apologize. The fact they were catching up now meant more to him that Diarmuid could imagine but there was something about it that told Cú that Diarmuid knew - the soft smiles and the easy way that they could keep pace with each other (save the times that Cú physically bolted away, ran ahead because he saw something interesting only to bolt back with the same excited to pull Diarmuid along). 

It’s something that starts out good - something that continues to be good, even as he’s packing boxes and humming softly to himself at the fact the majority of them are clothes, but Diarmuid’s tiny studio is just enough room for the both of them, and he can’t help the toothy grin that comes along his face when he feels the kiss against his temple, and then, the smack on his shoulder from his older twin. 

“Make sure t’invite us to the wedding, aye?”

“Oi, oi, it’s a little early t’be talkin’ marriage.” 

“If ya hadn’t’ve been a dumbass back in high school, then you two would’ve been together long ago, idiot.” Sétanta mutters, shakes his head a bit as he huffs, “Fate’s givin’ ya a second chance. Don’t be an idiot.” 

“Aye, aye.” He smiles a bit, watching Diarmuid awkwardly try to converse with Aster, shaking his head, “I won’t. Not this time.”


End file.
